


in the shadows

by thunderylee



Category: Avenged Sevenfold, Good Charlotte
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-07
Updated: 2006-05-07
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Benji is a fangirl.





	in the shadows

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

I feel like a fucking stalker.

I should have known better than to come here. My brother would tease me mercilessly if he knew, but the only good thing that seems to come out of his new Hollywood relationship is the fact that he spends less time prying into my business.

It is not uncommon knowledge that I am a fan. We even hang out from time to time and promote each other’s bands.

However, this does not justify my hiding in the bushes behind a venue in Arizona.

It’s not like I don’t have his cell number. I could easily call and pretend that I happen to be in town and I did _not_ in fact drive ten hours just to see him. I didn’t take out my piercings, cover up my tats, and part my hair down the middle in an attempt to disguise myself should he or anyone else happen to recognize me.

As _if_ anyone would recognize me at an Avenged Sevenfold show. We don’t exactly have the same fan base.

Focus, Madden. I’ve been lurking out here for close to two hours now, wishing I would have taken the opportunity to go back to my hotel room for a shower, or at least grabbed something to eat. I’m tired from the drive, sweaty from the pit, and starving from not eating for close to six hours.

Commotion arises from across the street, and I part the branches to see a group of about twenty really devoted fans run up to someone who looks like he could be some random guy walking down the street. It always amazes me how different he looks when he’s not on stage or doing interviews, and it has nothing at all to do with the fact that he can make a T-shirt and shorts look sexier than muscle shirts and tight jeans.

Clearly, my interest goes a little beyond our platonic friendship.

It takes about a half hour for the kids to be satisfied, and I wonder why I just don’t walk out there and join them. I suppose I do look a little creepy wearing a trenchcoat, fedora, and leather gloves (hey, I have a lot of tattoos to cover up), and I must admit I’m more worried about being mistaken for a terrorist than a crazy stalker. Plus, I’ve spent close to seven hours in this get up, and it’s not exactly trenchcoat weather in Arizona.

Then again, I didn’t drive ten hours just to watch a show, stakeout the signings, and leave.

A vibration in my pocket leads me to almost give away my cover by unceremoniously falling out of the bushes and creating a huge racket. I keep my balance and reach for my sidekick, my eyes darting back to the crowd the instant I see the name illuminate on the caller id. In the time it took me to berate myself for the millionth time since getting in the car this morning, the fans have disappeared and so has he.

“Hello?” I whisper, wondering why I’m whispering when there’s obviously no one around to hear me, and better yet, why I’m not making an effort to detach myself from the bushes.

“Did you enjoy the show?” The low, quiet voice replies.

“How did you -”

“You suck at being inconspicuous, Madden,” he says with a light chuckle. “The point is to blend in, not go out of your way to draw attention to yourself.”

I sigh halfheartedly as I emerge from the bushes and begin the walk of shame to my car.

“Why are you leaving?”

I stop in my tracks and casually look around. “Where are you?”

“It’s not where I am that’s important. It’s where you’re going.”

“I-I’m going back to my hotel,” I stutter, picking up the pace until I’m jogging towards the parking lot.

“Hotel, huh?” he repeats cheerfully. “Sounds much better than a tour bus. Better food, anyway.”

His voice amplifies as I catch sight of my car, the only one left in the lot. He’s leaning up against the hood, smirking at me as he flips his cell phone shut and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says calmly, pushing himself off of my car and walking towards me. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did,” I reply, struggling to catch my breath. He’s more beautiful up close than he is from far away. His lip piercing catches the streetlight as his eyes bore down into mine.

“You want to know what gave you away?” he asks with that woman-melting smile.

“Sure,” I say indifferently as I shrug off my trenchcoat and yank off my gloves, sighing happily when my skin comes into contact with the cool night breeze.

“Leave the hat on,” he says abruptly, his face expressionless. “It was your eyes. I could feel your stare from the crowd, and it didn’t take me long to find you once I knew you were there.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow and he laughs.

“Okay, that’s a lie.” He grins. “Your brother called me earlier after tracking down your car in western Arizona and asked me to keep a look out for you.”

“So much for Joel minding his own business,” I mutter bitterly.

“We actually had a pleasant conversation,” he continues. “At first, he was yelling at me for something I knew absolutely nothing about, then things began to click in my head and I told him something that seemed to erase all feelings of hatred from his person.”

“And what would that be?” I try not to let my anxiety show, along with my surprise at the correct usage of ‘his person’.

He invades my personal space and looks from one eye to another as though searching for something. “That would depend on the validity of Joel’s assumptions. It’s not like you to keep secrets from your twin.”

He’s right, but what he doesn’t know is that I was more or less lying to myself rather than my brother.

A clap ruses me from my thoughts, and he rubs his hands together as he backs away from me and heads towards the passenger side of my car. “I bet you’re starving. The groupies say there’s a Del Taco down the street.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, my overwhelming need for food winning out over the extreme weirdness of the situation (and my hatred for Del Taco). I press the ‘unlock’ button on my keys, toss my obtrusive disguise in the backseat, and settle my _person_ into the driver’s seat.

He watches me as I buckle my seatbelt and turn the key. Almost instantly, his hand is messing with the dial on my stereo until heavy rock music is blaring through my speakers.

“Only decent station in this town,” he comments, flashing me a smile.

“Thanks,” I reply dryly, concentrating on the road in front of me as an old Rancid song starts.

Other than some quick directions to Del Taco, he doesn’t speak for the entire ride. When we get to the drive-thru, he orders a taco and I settle for a couple bean burritos.

“You could get a fish taco,” he says in what appears to be a helpful manner, pointing to the item on the menu. “Don’t vegetarians still eat fish?”

“I don’t like fish,” I answer bluntly. “And even if I did, they’re still a living creature.”

He shifts uncomfortably and frowns. “I can change my order if it bothers you. Or we could go somewhere else.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” I say. “Your presence in my car bothers me. What do you want?”

“I could ask you the same thing and be validated.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I’d think driving ten hours to see me would warrant that question more than me simply grabbing a bite to eat with you after said drive.”

“Who said I drove here to see you specifically?” I challenge him. “You guys aren’t coming to California at all on this tour. Maybe I just wanted to see your band perform.”

“Then why be all sneaky about it?” he asks. “You could have easily just called me and told me you were coming out to see the show. I would have let you come backstage and hang out instead of being trampled in the pit.”

“The pit was lame anyway.” I hand the unhappy-looking drive-thru guy some money and toss the bag into my passenger’s lap.

He places the bag on the floor and returns his twenty to his wallet when he presumably realizes that I’m not going to accept it. “You’re evading the question.”

“You’re observant.”

“Look,” he says sternly, his tone turning intimidating. “I get enough of this girly attitude from the groupie whores. You can either tell me why you came all the way out here or take me back to my bus. Thanks for the food, by the way.”

I glance at him, wondering how someone can be so condescending and show appreciation in the same breath.

“Whatever Joel told you -” I stall with a sigh “- is probably true.”

“Regardless,” he says, “I want to hear it from you.”

“Will you stop patronizing me?” I explode, finally turning towards him and getting even angrier at the shit-eating grin on his face. “You know what I want and I know you’re not going to give it to me. This whole day was a waste of time and I’m already going to hear about it from my brother; I don’t need it from you too.”

“What makes you think you’re not going to get what you want?” he asks in what would have been a completely innocent tone had his hand not crossed the console and rested on my thigh.

My head snaps to face him, my jaw set. “Don’t fuck with me, Sanders.”

“I’m not fucking with you,” he replies sweetly, his hand remaining in place. “Not yet, anyway.”

He appears to catch the brief glimpse of anticipation in my eyes and turns his attention towards the road ahead of us. “Let’s just get back to your hotel room, okay?”

“Don’t you have to leave for the next show?”

“Not for like four hours. The other bands all got rooms but we decided to hang out all night and sleep on the bus. We had a massive barbeque and the groupie whores were all over us before one of them decided to tell me there were fans waiting in the street. She was quite pissed when I shoved her off of me and headed straight for the gate; I guess she thought I was going to blow them off for her. That’s when I saw you lurking in the shadows like a serial killer and decided it would be in both of our best interests if I left with you.”

“And miss out on getting laid?” I mock. “I feel special.”

“If you’ve fucked one, you’ve fucked them all.” He sighs and turns to me with a smug smirk. “Besides, if I have my way, I will be getting laid tonight.”

His hand moves a fraction of an inch up my thigh as I jerk the car rather forcefully into a parking spot of the Marriott. All pretenses of remaining calm and distant fly out the window when I meet his eyes.

“I-I’ll go in first,” I say quickly, turning off the car and scrambling to grab my sidekick and cigarettes from the console. “You wait five minutes and follow. I’m in room 310.”

“I don’t give a shit if anyone sees us together,” he says bluntly. “Do you?”

I pause in my efforts and stare at him. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

We get out of the car and jog towards the doors. I nod towards the girl behind the desk and stride towards the elevator with him right on my heels. The elevator doors have barely closed before I’m shoved up against the wall, his arms wrapped around my waist and his tongue hot in my mouth.

I start to protest but change my mind abruptly when he presses up against me and lowers his hands to grab my ass. He grinds our lower halves together and gasps into my mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as the elevator dings to signify that we’ve reached the third floor.

He makes no effort to detach himself from me, simply urging me down the hall as his lips press roughly against mine and we remain attached at the groin. I can feel his arousal through my jeans and his shorts just as I know he can feel mine.

Somehow we make it to my door, and I fumble to open my wallet and retrieve the key card. He’s not helping much, now choosing to slide one hand around the front my waist to grope my crotch directly, and it is with sheer willpower that I actually pull away from him and turn on the lights upon entering the room.

“Classy,” he jokes somewhat breathlessly, leaning against the door as he takes in the completely normal hotel room save for my bag sitting on the middle of the queen-sized bed.

“You know me,” I say, taking a seat on the desk chair. “Only the best.”

I snatch the bag of food and reach for my burritos. “You’ll understand if I chow down before we continue whatever that was in the hallway.”

“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “A man’s gotta eat. Build up your energy.”

“I should take a shower too.” I unwrap a burrito and eye it suspiciously. “You obviously had one, but I have about four hundred other people’s sweat on me, along with my own.”

He starts to say something but chooses to remain silent and watch me as I eat my burrito. I’m not completely stupid; I know what I’m doing. I also know that the contents of his pants rival the size of this burrito, and I’m taking the opportunity to practice a bit before moving on to the real thing.

Not that I’ve done this before or anything.

A quick glance in his direction tells me that he hasn’t, though. He suddenly looks incredibly nervous and darts his eyes around the room, as though questioning if he really wants to be here.

I end the phallic teasing show and inhale the rest of my food in record time. “Aren’t you going to eat your taco?” I ask, pushing them towards him.

“I changed my mind,” he replies. “Sometimes I prefer burrito to taco.”

“You should have gotten a burrito then,” I say with a smirk, completely following the innuendo.

“I still might,” he says saucily, his eyes now on me. “Are you done eating?”

“That depends. Are you going to pounce on me again?”

Instead of answering, he straddles my lap and attacks my mouth in one swift motion. I wrap my arms around him and lean back in the chair in an effort to pull him close to me, but two grown men in a desk chair isn’t the most comfortable seating arrangement.

“Bed,” I mumble against his lips.

His persistence amazes me; we manage to cross the room and flop down onto the bed with our mouths remaining attached. He crawls on top of me and begins tugging my shirt up, his fingers trailing along my bare chest on the way.

I hook my thumbs around the bottom of his shirt to do the same, and we break apart long enough to pull both of them off and toss them out of the way. Our hats fly off in the process, and he reaches for mine and firmly puts it back on my head.

“You look so fucking hot in a fedora,” he growls into my ear as I feel his tongue flicking the back of my earring.

I run my hands up his chest and moan softly as kisses my neck.

“Oh, you like that?” he says teasingly, nipping at my sensitive skin and making me arch into him. His hand travels along my waistline until it’s right above the button of my jeans and presses downward to cup my incredibly hard erection.

“You really do like that,” he says with a hint of surprise in his voice, followed by a chuckle. “Or maybe it’s just me.”

“Maybe,” I reply thoughtlessly, reaching my own hand to brush against the equally as hard but much larger bulge in his shorts.

He groans and grips my cock harder. “Please, Benji. Please don’t tease me. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His words mixed with his touch send a surge of adrenaline through my veins, and before I know it I have him flipped on his back and squirming as I kiss my way down his tattooed and sculpted chest.

“Oh, God,” he gasps, placing one hand on my head. “ _Please_.”

“Is this what you want?” I ask in a low voice, rushing to unbutton his shorts and lower the zip. “You want your cock in my mouth?”

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, tangling his fingers in my short hair. “And afterwards, I want you to fuck my brains out.”

“Oh, my God,” I breathe into his naval, pushing his shorts and boxers down while he lifts his hips to help me out. His giant cock springs out and almost smacks me in the face, and I can’t help but run my tongue along the entire length before taking a portion of the head into my mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he swears, loosening his grip on my hair in favor of affectionately pushing it out of my eyes. “It’s okay if you can’t fit it in your mouth; God knows those little groupie whores can’t.”

“Do you mind not bringing them up while I’m doing this?” I reply bitterly, pressing my tongue into the slit and eliciting a delicious moan from the man beneath me. “And besides, I’ve got a big mouth.”

He leans up on his elbows, presumably to witness with his own eyes what could possibly be the very first time anyone has ever swallowed this monster whole. I don’t get very far, just past the head, but that seems to be more than good enough judging by the way his eyes are rolling back into his head. A sharp gasp escapes his lungs, and his eyes fly open to watch me through what looks like a cloudy haze and hooded lids.

“ _Benji_ ,” he mumbles, my name turning into a moan as I use both hands to slide up and down his shaft while sucking on the head.

I hope he doesn’t expect me to answer him; my mouth is a little full at the moment. Instead I look up and meet his eyes as I abandon his cock with one of my hands in favor of cupping his balls.

“ _OhmyGod_.” The words run together in an octave higher than his usual, and he moves his hand from my head to my shoulder in an effort to convey his request wordlessly.

I speed up the hand that is still on his cock and let the head fall from my lips as I kiss around it. “You have to tell me what you want,” I mutter against the smooth skin. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“Do -” he arches his back and moans loudly as I tighten my grip “- do that thing… that guys do… to get ready for… don’t make me say it.”

“You want me to fuck you but you can’t ask me to finger your ass?” I reply in amusement.

He laughs uncomfortably. “It just sounds so _vulgar_ when you put it that way.”

My eyebrow rises for the second time tonight, and I begin to question his true intentions behind this whole activity. I also begin to wonder what exactly Joel told him.

In the midst of my wondering, I reach for my bag and unzip it with one hand, searching for the tube of lube that I packed out of habit and really didn’t think I would end up using. I somehow manage to squirt some onto my fingers without interrupting the efforts of my other hand, and I trace a random pattern up the inside of his thigh to get him to spread his legs for me.

“ _God_ ,” he moans again. “I’m going to come as soon as you do that.”

I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and swirl my tongue into the slit as I begin to push one finger inside of him. True to his word, his elbows give out from under him and a wail of a moan emerges from his throat as his cock pulses and explodes into my mouth. I lap it up while taking the opportunity to sneak in another finger, then I’m yanked up by the shoulders and a slightly dry tongue is thrust into my mouth.

He pulls his knees up to his chest, and I swallow his moans as I brush against his prostate with my fingers. His hands are at my waist, wrestling with my belt and the buttons on my jeans and finally succeeding. My jeans are so big that they fall to my knees, and he follows by shoving down my boxers and seizing my cock with both hands.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles against my lips, wrapping his legs around me and digging his heels into my back in an obvious effort to pull me closer. “Fuck me _now_ , Madden.”

I withdraw my fingers and reach for the tube again, generously coating my cock much more than necessary. He will never admit that this is his first time, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to hurt him. I position myself at his entrance and lean down to kiss him as I slowly slide in.

He bites my lip, presumably to keep from crying out, and I’m very glad I don’t have my piercings in. I use my tongue to play with the inside of his lip ring and he seems to relax as I bury the rest of my cock inside his hot ass.

“You okay?” I ask gently, kissing my way down to his chest as he stretches out his back on the bed.

“Yeah,” he gasps, tilting his head to look down at me. “It’s just… full.”

“Yeah,” I say, chuckling. “You’ll get used to it. Are you ready for me to move yet?”

“No,” he says decidedly. “I’m ready to ride you.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he grabs me by the ass with both hands and rolls us over with my cock still inside him. He straddles my waist and leans down, burying his face into my neck.

“This is much more comfortable for our heights, yeah?”

“Uh huh,” I say noncommittally, squinting my eyes shut as he lifts his hips up and brings them back down to impale himself onto my cock.

“Oh, yeah,” he breathes against my skin. “Fuck, Benji, this is incredible.”

“Uh huh,” I say again, followed by a deep moan. His hot, tight walls are throbbing around me at a rapid pace, and I’m fighting not to blow my load so early. “Slow down,” I tell him, stretching my arms around his back and rubbing the muscles of his shoulder blades.

“Feels so good,” he protests, but slows down regardless. I lower my hands to his hips and guide him along, lifting up slowly but pushing down quick and hard; he moans and sinks his teeth into my neck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” I hiss at the pain from his bite, while at the same time bucking my hips upwards to thrust deeper.

“You like it,” he whispers, grazing his lips against my neck until he reaches a very sensitive spot right under my ear and bites down again.

I groan loudly and he begins to move faster. It’s all going to be over very, very soon. He loops his arms around my shoulders as he bounces up and down on my cock, and just when I think I can’t last any longer, he whispers “Come for me, Benji” and I come undone.

I’m struggling to catch my breath when I feel my spent cock slip out of him, and I open my eyes to see him stretch out along side of me and press a kiss to my cheek.

“God, that was amazing.”

I look up at him, confused. “What did Joel tell you?”

He grins. “Absolutely fucking nothing. Apparently I’m much better at lying than you are.”

I roll my eyes but kiss him anyways.

“So what happens now?” he asks, pressing his lips to the spots where my lip rings would be.

“Now?” I repeat. “Well, you still have a taco. You could eat that and then I can take you back to the bus.”

I see a wicked glint in his eye as he replies, “I think I’m done with tacos. They don’t do it for me anymore.”

I smile at him as I reach for my cigarettes and light one. “This is quite possibly the lamest analogy I’ve ever heard.”

“Coming from the man who lurked in the shadows all night because he was too chicken shit to approach me,” he retorts.

“I stand corrected,” I say. “ _That_ is the lamest analogy I’ve ever heard.”

It takes him a second, but he makes the connection and laughs into my neck. “In the Shadows, indeed.”


End file.
